


All These Years That Passed

by talesoffangirl



Category: Tales of Xillia
Genre: Alternate Universe, Butler Alvin, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Growing Up Together, Jude is the son of a duke, Jude's parents suck, M/M, Minor Character Death, When I say minor I mean minor, sexuality exploration, so many feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 12:34:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3692463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talesoffangirl/pseuds/talesoffangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That was the night he realized that somewhere between six-year-old Jude and fourteen-year-old Jude, the bond they shared had grown and strengthened into something far more than friends.</p>
<p>Fifteen-year-old Jude passed it off as ‘best friends’.</p>
<p>Sixteen-year-old Jude knew it was more. </p>
<p>___</p>
<p>AU in which Alvin is Jude's personal servant and helps raise him, and Jude wonders about how close they become over the years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All These Years That Passed

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a simple one-shot for a friend. It escalated into two thousand words of detail and emotion. But the finished product seemed so good, I had to post it. So, enjoy!

Jude was far from the clueless little child his parents seemed to consider him to be. When they thought he was in his room playing carelessly with his toys, he was actually reading yet another book about whatever subject happened to interest him that week. When they thought he was wandering the manor being a nuisance and bothering the staff, he was actually travelling around and seeing if any of said staff needed help with anything – sitting in his room all day was so boring, he didn’t mind helping with cleaning around his home. And when they thought he was in the dining hall stuffing his face with delicious foods and rich dessert treats, he was actually in the kitchen himself, vigilantly watching the cooks as they worked in hopes of learning to do it himself someday. His parents didn’t even know that he snuck down into the kitchen during the wee hours of the morning to do just that; practice his culinary skills.

His parents didn’t know he was smart. They didn’t know that he knew everything they knew about the happenings of Leronde, and then some.

And at the moment, they didn’t know the six-year-old was standing right outside their bedroom door, listening to their current conversation.

“We can’t bring him in,” his mother was saying. “He’s such a troublemaker, Derrick! What if he rubs off on the rest of the staff and they start following his examples? Do you really want to risk such disorder here?”

“I know, Ellen,” his father replied. “But I can’t just turn him to the streets. I knew his parents, and they cared about this boy. They’d surely haunt me if I didn’t help their son.”

“We can’t have him here,” the lady protested. “It won’t work.” A long sigh came from the duke, and Jude curled his knees closer to his chest. He really hoped his dad wouldn’t start yelling. He hated the yelling.

“We’ll make it work,” came the response. “We’ll…make him Jude’s personal servant.” The little boy’s eyes widened. “Jude doesn’t do anything productive with his time regardless, and he’s constantly annoying the staff and getting in their way. Maybe, this boy can keep him occupied until he learns to start being more responsible.” His grip on the legs of his pants tightened. Jude probably hated the way his parents spoke of him more than he hated the yelling.

Now a sigh from his mother. “…It’s not a terrible idea,” she conceded finally. “All right, we’ll put him in charge of Jude then. Maxwell knows that boy needs some kind of supervisor. He’s always getting into trouble…”

Jude stood from where he crouched beside the bedroom door, and quietly padded back down the hall to his room. Not productive. Annoying. Not responsible. Always getting into trouble. He was so horrible; a miserable excuse for a son. And only in his parents’ eyes.

Tears threatened to overfill his amber pools as he reached his room. He shut the door silently behind him and crawled into bed, burying his face into his pillows.

Sometimes he wished he could just sink into his mattress. Then maybe his parents would finally be happy with him.

~:~

It was when he walked out for breakfast the next morning that Jude first met him. He was standing beside the chair the little boy normally occupied, already dressed in what Jude assumed was his new uniform. A standard butler outfit, only his jacket was untucked and the bowtie around his neck was loose and sloppy. And when he met Jude’s eyes, the tall brunette gave him a lazy grin and a wink that made his heart feel warm. Neither of his parents had ever smiled at him like that before. It was a nice change.

“Jude.” The boy in question turned to his father. “This is Alvin. He’s the newest member of our staff, and his job is to take care of you. Do you understand?” Jude nodded. “Good. Now, if you ever need anything, you will go to him, and not any other member of this manor. We are paying good money for him to cater you specially, and I expect you to not make that money go to waste. Clear?”

“Yes, father. Crystal.” He approached his seat, giving Alvin a friendly smile. “Hello. I’m Jude Mathis.” He held his hand out. To his surprise, Alvin laughed, knocked his hand away, and gave his dark hair a ruffle.

“Nice to meet ya, kid.”

“His name,” Derrick cut in, voice laced with underlying venom, “is Jude, and as his servant, you will treat him with respect.” Alvin held his hands up.

“Whoa, okay, sorry. Jude it is then.” The duke glared, but left them alone in favor of returning to his breakfast.

Jude clambered up into his own seat and waited for the serving maid to fill his plate for him. As he ate, he noticed that Alvin didn’t hover by the wall, waiting to be summoned back to the table. Instead, the brunette stayed standing beside his chair. When Jude looked up at him, he was rewarded with another wink, and he smiled widely back.

He’d never met someone quite like Alvin before.

He decided that he liked Alvin, a lot.

~:~

Without even really meaning to, Alvin became a very important part of Jude’s life. He and the new servant hit it off great. Even though Alvin was seventeen – eleven years older than Jude was – he still played with the boy whenever he asked and was happy to help him carry books to and from the library and his room. He would let Jude ramble on and on about whatever he was reading or studying, listening to him even though Jude knew most of it went over his head. Sometimes, he would ask Alvin questions about life outside of Leronde, asked about places he’d never been. And Alvin would answer him instead of shrugging him off and telling him to go play like his father always did.

Alvin was a fantastic storyteller. On nights when Jude couldn’t sleep, he would kneel by his bedside and weave stories of evil witches and heroic knights, and they were so captivating that Jude lay wide-eyed until the very end. Alvin would tell him to close his eyes and he would and he would eventually fall asleep, princesses and dragons and wizards dancing in his head.

As he got older, and his naïve, childish mind began to blossom and mature, Jude realized that he’d found in Alvin something he never knew he’d need so much.

A friend. A true, genuine friend.

A friend who would play and read with him and tell him stories when he was six. A friend who helped him find answers to questions in books and encyclopedias when he was seven. A friend who sat with him whenever he felt lonely when he was eight. A friend who escorted him around the city, just the two of them when he was nine. A friend who would listen to his problems and worries when he was ten, eleven, and twelve. A friend who believed in him and supported him when he was thirteen and realized he didn’t want to take over his family’s manor when he got older.

He didn’t realize the strength of their bond until he was fourteen. One night, he’d burst into Alvin’s personal room with tears streaming down his cheeks and sobs wracking his shoulders. And Alvin sat there and held him and rocked him as he blubbered about the fight he’d gotten into with his father over him taking over the family name. And he whispered sweet nothings into Jude’s ear, a constant stream of ‘it’ll be all right’s and ‘calm down’s and ‘I’m here’s that reduced the teen’s choked cries to soft hiccups and sniffles.

And when he finally dared to pull his face from Alvin’s now-wet shoulder and gaze up at him, his friend smiled at him and swiped his thumbs across Jude’s cheeks, and it made Jude feel warm, so warm and cared for; and when he snuggled back into the older’s broad chest, he was not pushed away.

That was the night he realized that somewhere between six-year-old Jude and fourteen-year-old Jude, the bond they shared had grown and strengthened into something far more than friends.

Fifteen-year-old Jude passed it off as ‘best friends’.

Sixteen-year-old Jude knew it was more. But he didn’t get a chance to really sit and think about it, because one night, Alvin walked into his room wearing an expression on his face that made his heart sink like a stone. And Alvin, now twenty-seven, sat on the bed with him in silence as Jude processed the fact that his parents were dead, taken away because of an accident on a ferry trip back from Auj Oule. He didn’t cry, but his more-than-best-friend knew he was, on the inside.

When Alvin tried to leave the room later that night, most likely assuming he wanted some time alone with his thoughts, Jude reached out and caught him by the cuff of his shirt. And when his servant turned to look at him, Jude’s molten eyes were pleading, and he whispered, “Will you…stay with me…?” And Alvin didn’t hesitate to climb back onto the bed and lay down with him, and let the teen curl up into his chest.

Jude was heartbroken, yes – even if they hadn’t had the greatest of relationships, they were his parents, and now they were gone. But he also couldn’t deny how safe and comfortable he felt with Alvin’s arms coiled around him.

Sixteen became seventeen. Jude closed himself off; from the world, from his interests, from Alvin. He spent most of his time in his room, but all he did in there was sit and think. Whenever he was questioned about it, his answer was the same; a small smile, accompanied by, “soul searching,” and then he would turn away and go about his business. He was sure everyone assumed his odd behavior stemmed from his parents’ deaths, which wasn’t wrong. But there was more than just that. Seventeen-year-old Jude now had to re-evaluate all of his plans for the future – not taking over the Mathis name and moving out on his own to do his own studies – and deal with the revelations of his sixteen-year-old self.

It took a long while, but by the time his eighteenth birthday rolled around, Jude had it all figured out. He was indeed going to take charge of the manor; he was the sole survivor of the family, after all. And he planned on supporting spyrite and mana research, so that way he could also contribute to his fields of interest. And he had decided to keep quiet about his feelings for Alvin. That was just a can of worms he wasn’t quite ready to open yet. But he did let the brunette back in, went back to confiding in him and seeking him out for comfort. Even if Jude wanted to keep it secret, he didn’t want the warm, fuzzy feeling Alvin brought him to go away. And even after almost a year of not being exposed to it, it was still there, and as strong as ever.

Jude turned eighteen. He was officially named head of his house. Duke Mathis, just like his father had been. Life became a blur of paperwork, meetings, and books. He still saw Alvin frequently; the brunette often lounged around with him in his study, and they made small talk about pointless things while Jude scrawled his name across sheet after sheet of paper.

He was nineteen when he realized he wanted something a little bit more. He wanted something more than just work and books. He wanted something _fun_. And so, one day, he marched up to his favorite servant, a wooden training sword in each hand, and said, “Can you fight?”

Alvin blinked in surprise, but nodded. “Indeed I can. Why do you—?”

Jude threw one of the swords at him. “Come and show me.”

~:~

They trained out in the courtyard for the rest of the afternoon. Jude was no stranger to training or working out; he’d taken martial arts when he was younger, but stopped around the time his parents passed. And he wasn’t used to wielding a blade; he much preferred his fists. But Alvin was a good teacher. He was patient and to-the-point and helped Jude up even when it was he himself who’d knocked him down. That now-familiar warm feeling spread throughout the younger male’s entire being. It was a different kind of warmth compared to what he felt from running around in the hot sun for hours. This warmth didn’t make him sweat so much that his bangs stuck to his forehead.

Regardless, it was nice to be outside, away from his work for a while, spending time with his more-than-best-friend. Jude felt like he was six years old again.

“One more charge!” Alvin was calling from across the cobblestone. “Then we’ll call it quits. So give me everything you’ve got this time, kid!” Jude nodded, adjusting his grip on the handle of the training sword. Drawing in a large, deep breath, he shot off across the courtyard, barreling straight for the brunette. He watched Alvin slide into his defensive position, readying himself for impact. He brought the wooden weapon up over his shoulder, just like he’d been shown, and prepared to swing it down.

His foot suddenly caught on an uneven patch of brick in the ground. Jude’s amber orbs widened in surprise, and he vaulted forward, his training sword flying from his fingers and clattering to the stone. He slammed his eyes shut, realizing he was about to fall and bracing himself.

He crashed into something solid and warm, and felt himself flop against it as both of them tumbled to the ground. Jude was still for a long moment, then slowly opened his eyes.

“Well, that coulda been really bad, huh?” The smaller male tipped his head back and stared up at the face of the man who’d been the cause of all his confusing feelings. Alvin was grinning down at him, that lazy grin that usually preceded a wink and made Jude’s heart flutter. But this time, it made his face burn from too much of the warmth.

“I-I’m sorry!” he sputtered, shifting himself so not all of his weight rested on the brunette’s chest. He felt something brush against his thighs and dared to glance down. The burning feeling shot all the way down to his toes when he realized it was Alvin’s legs that were touching him. He’d fallen _in between Alvin’s legs_. “S-Sorry! I didn’t mean…!” He whimpered in embarrassment and made to shove himself away from the man.

But he found himself caught. He looked down and saw tanned hands holding his hips, preventing him from escaping. His gaze flicked back up to Alvin’s. The grin was gone, replaced by an uncharacteristically serious and calculating stare. Jude felt himself be pulled in closer by the grip around his waist. His lips parted.

“A-Alvin…”

“Jude.” It sounded soft, a light brush of voice against his eardrum. Alvin dragged him closer still, and Jude found himself aiding him and shuffling closer of his own accord. The space between them grew shorter and shorter until finally, Alvin leaned up and pressed his mouth firmly against Jude’s.

It was unlike anything he’d ever felt. The burning sensation that had consumed his being instantly vanished, replaced by a tingling feeling of delight. Alvin’s lips were wet with the water they’d been sipping and tasted faintly like sweat. It was addicting, and Jude found himself pressing back, his hands moving to the other’s shoulders.

They parted slowly, eyes opening to lock with each other’s. Jude’s heart was beating a few beats too fast, and his previous physical exertion had nothing to do with it, he knew. He wondered if Alvin felt the same way.

He watched as that grin returned, full of care and humor, and Alvin gave his hips a squeeze. “That was nice.”

“O-Oh… Yeah. It was.” A chuckle.

“Feel a bit better now?” Jude blinked, lifting a hand to touch his chest. He felt light and carefree, like he could tackle anything without worry.

“…Yeah, actually. I do.”

“I always knew that would do the trick. Had’ta be classy though, and wait till you were old enough.”

“What? What do you mean you always knew? When did you… How long…?”

Alvin’s expression softened, and he rubbed where his hands were settled around Jude’s waist. “Since you were fourteen.”

Fourteen. What had taken Jude close to five years to fully comprehend, Alvin had known all along.

A new feeling rose in his chest – one he hadn’t felt in a long time that bubbled from his stomach to his chest and up to his throat. Jude tipped his head back, opened his mouth, and laughed. He only stopped when Alvin grabbed a fistful of his hair and fit their lips back together.

When Jude was nineteen, he fired his long-time personal servant and more-than-best-friend Alvin. When he was nineteen, he officially announced his courtship with Alfred vint Svent. When he was nineteen, he realized he was in love.

When he was nineteen, Jude finally felt like everything in his life made sense.


End file.
